Advent
by Maygin
Summary: False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. – Plato


**Advent**

By: Maygin

Summary: False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. – Plato

Authors Note: Why, oh why am I posting this? It's a mess. There's really no humor in this; it's all angst, and I think I'm realizing I have some sort of fetish for the guys rolling around on the ground, fighting. Anyways, I wrote this in a bathroom stall at work (the only place people don't bother me) on a yellow pad of paper… it was seriously like an overwhelming urge to get this down on paper… I can't believe I spent an hour in a public bathroom _hiding _from reality. Soooo… here ya go. Love it or hate it. I will say, I think the general feeling of it came from after reading A-blackwinged-bird's story, _Lost_; which is awesome! You should definitely read that! This is kind of a true story, only it was me and my best friend instead of the Winchesters.

**Advent**

The aged screen door protested loudly as Dean pushed it open; and likewise as it closed with a snap behind him. The elder Winchester took up guard beside his brother who was staring distantly into the light rain that had appropriately besieged the gloomy day.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked casually. He chanced a glance to his right, just in time to catch the minimal shrug his brother offered in response.

Dean sighed; this had not been a happy ending case. A four year old little girl with short blond curls, big blue eyes and a heartfelt hug that she insisted on bestowing upon _everyone_ who dared cross her path had died. One second she was there, and the next, an iron hit her in the head and she was dead. A precious life-line snuffed out in less than a single tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. They'd both watched it happen. Dean had a busted lip and Sam, a gash above his eye to prove it. And here they were, standing on the now child-less family's front porch after having promised to try and clean up their mess while the grieving parents took their little girl to the police station.

He fell into the mindless patter of water splattering the roof, trees and sidewalk. He vaguely noticed the rain was ever-so-slowly cleaning the mud off his car in smeared streaks. "You know, we did everything we could," he said quietly.

More mud slid off the tires before Sam quietly responded.

"I wasn't thinking that."

Dean tilted his head; he really hated when Sam was closed down like this, he could never get a good reading on him and ended up sounding like an idiot for guessing. "I'm just sayin," he shrugged it off. He went back to watching the rain now coming down a bit harder. _How appropriate_, he thought.

"I was thinking how much it must suck… doing this on your own."

Dean paused and glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. He feared the intent behind that statement. _So this is it, huh_? They'd finally hit case '_one too many_' and Sam was leaving to seek out better horizons. Dean chewed on his lip. That wasn't fair; he had no right to keep his little brother from a better life; something safe… something where he didn't have to carry a bloody, dead four year old little girl in his arms and hand her over to a grieving mother.

He gave another shrug, "It's not that bad."

"I'm not leaving you know." Dean's chest tightened. "You were right," Sam went on, his numb gaze never abandoning the maple wood in the front yard, crying in the absence of it's favorite curly blond tree climber. "We were meant to do this… destiny… whatever you wanna call it."

Dean couldn't deny the small spark of hope that promise ignited; but he could not, would not turn his gaze to the man beside him. He didn't want to see the look of utter defeat he was certain accompanied those words.

"I'm done running… you were right." A low rumble of thunder stretched across the sky. "I see that now."

Dean sucked in a deep breath of the chilled air, filling his lungs with what felt like the cleanest air he'd ever breathed after the oppressing atmosphere within the house. He didn't know what to say. What the hell do you say to someone who just realized they were doomed to a merciless, rigorous life of an outcast; roaming amongst the most vile and evil creatures this world had to offer?

"Bout damn time," he said with a lightness only his gruff humor would allow. He gave himself a small pat on the back as this seemed to draw his brother out a bit. Sam's head turned fractionally, eyes still distant, but a little more focused. Dean's pride was quickly smothered however as Sam suddenly turned and walked down the porch steps, out into the rain.

"Where are you going?" He watched with a dumbfounded expression as Sam stopped a few feet beyond the porch; rain droplets claiming their new prize. Sam's head turned, looking across the field on the eastern side of the house. Dean stayed awkwardly frozen to the spot, trying to solve the puzzle that was Sam; the puzzle that had suddenly broken and scattered in the storm. He watched intently as a breath of a humorless laugh escaped his brother's lips, quickly turning into a small cloud of vapor in the coolness of early spring.

"Not even a minute, man." Dean's brow quirked in confusion. "Not even a minute passes and you're already doubting my integrity?"

Anger took over Dean's confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

If possible, Sam's shoulders seemed to slump even further. "I'm not leaving… so you can quit looking at me like that."

Dean's brow smoothed out with clarity. He briefly wondered if Sam's psychic ability had stepped up a notch, right on into mind-reading. It wasn't that he doubted Sam's word; he'd just learned long ago to always be ready for disappointment to rear its ugly head; somehow made it easier in its passing. He could see how his brother would see it as mistrust.

Dean sighed in guilty defeat, "Sam… look I'm sorry alright?"

A defiant puff of air escaped the younger man's lips once more. "Careful Dean, you're treading dangerously close to a Lifetime moment."

"What the hell do you want me to say?"

His brother finally turned and met his eyes; exasperation tainting his exhausted frame. "I want you to tell me that this bothers you!" Sam's arms flung out, water flying from his fingers. Dean was in shock at what Sam's words insinuated. "I want you to say that this-… this _job_ gets to you sometimes!"

"What- you think I _enjoy_ watching little girls heads get smashed in?" Dean fumed.

Sam's drenched head shook sadly, "You know what I wish Dean? I wish that for once in your life you would just break down; show some emotion… stop trying to be the impenetrable older brother that hides behind some cheap ass aversion to 'chick flick' moments."

Dean was speechless; _where the hell was this coming from_? He didn't like that he couldn't tell if it was rain or tears, or maybe both trailing down the younger man's cheeks. He was so confused. His breath was quivering against his voice box; something _had_ to come out. "You wanna tell me what's gotten into yo-"

Dean was cut off as a fat glob of mud suddenly splatted against his neck and chest. He didn't move. Sam, mud still dripping from his fingertips, let out a mirthless breath at Dean's frozen, slack-jawed expression. Dean was flabbergasted as he looked down at the slop of clay slowly sliding down his shirt and jacket, leaving a lovely brown trail of muck.

"What the _hell_ is the matter with you?" he lifted his head, only to have another glob of mud smack into his forehead and into his hair. He threw a disbelieving look at the drenched man just standing there, another missile ready in his hand. He didn't care at this point that Sam didn't seem to be laughing either; in fact his brother looked seriously pissed.

"You are _fucked_ up du-" he dodged another mud missile. "Son of bitch!" He vaulted off the clean, white porch, his shoes splashing into the thick mud, before launching himself at the other man.

The two fell to the ground in a splash of brown water. They each fought violently for the upper hand. The slippery mud and continual downpour of rain made it increasingly difficult for either to get a good hold. Dean finally twisted at the right moment; his foot catching a rock that helped him achieve his balance back. He turned and slammed his brother into the soft ground with a smack; pinning Sam down on his back with his own weight. The younger man's lungs rebelled at the sudden shock sending him into a coughing fit, gasping for air and yet still trying to fight for freedom from beneath the other man.

"Why?" Dean ground out between bared teeth; he pressed down harder to stop the younger one's squirming.

"Get off me!" Sam seethed, arching his back, trying to pry free.

An explosion of thunder sounded off in the distance. Dean slammed him back down, leaning his face directly above his siblings and growled in his face once more. "Why Sam!"

"Because it kills me Dean!" The confession seemed torn from his throat, quickly turning into a sob. "It kills me that I can't meet your standards; that I can't be impenetrable like you." Sam looked miserable. "My entire life I've looked up to you and every day it seems that nothing gets to you and _I'm_ always falling apart." The younger man dragged in some ragged breaths in between sobs, trying to see through the rain dripping from Dean's head above him. "It kills me that I can't be strong like you… _for_ you… and for dad, "Sam sucked in a short breath, "for Jessica."

Dean didn't move, he hardly breathed. He couldn't fathom how things had plummeted so completely. Something was going to have to give, and even if he didn't understand it, he knew it would have to come from him; and it had to come _now_.

"Don't leave."

Sam's breathe shuddered in the cold air; his dark eyes taking on a whole new level of hurt and disappointment. "I already told you, I-"

"I know," Dean cut in, "I just-" Dean swallowed, staring at a mud-puddle next to his brothers head. "Everyone leaves." Dean grimaced at how vulnerable he sounded; he sounded like a girl-

And suddenly the confusion disappeared; as if a string that attached all the puzzle pieces that were _Sam_ had suddenly been pulled together into a clear, defined picture once more. This is what his brother had been trying to tell him; had been unconsciously _screaming_ at him to comprehend. Every time Dean put on a brave face, every time he hid behind some asinine joke, every time he ran from anything even _remotely _akin to emotions… all these things pressed heavily upon Sam how completely different they were. Instead of protecting his kid brother, he'd alienated him; made him look weak in comparison… made him a freak. He couldn't believe his plan had so completely backfired on him. He watched a drop of rain fall from his nose and land on the younger man's forehead.

"No more running," he promised; making sure Sam could see the sincerity in his eyes, "for either of us."

Sam took longer than Dean would've liked searching for honesty in his brother's promise before giving a small nod; still blinking rain out of his eyes. "Deal," he quietly agreed. Dean responded in kind and shifted slightly so he wasn't sinking Sam further into the mud than he already had.

Sam flexed his frozen fingers, caked in mud. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "We should get an Oscar for this one."

A small smile pulled at the corner of Dean's lips. He grabbed a handful of mud and skillfully smeared it across his brother's face. Sam, for his part, simply closed his eyes and let it happen, too exhausted to defend against the onslaught.

"Thanks Dean." He said lightly, trying to dislodge a glob of mud from his eyelid with an already muddy hand.

Dean gave a short nod, before stiffly climbing to his feet. He extended his hand and Sam took it gratefully. Dean pulled hard as Sam's back _schlucked_ out of the mud. The two stood there, allowing the rain to wash off what wasn't determined to stick. At first they avoided each other's eyes; but after a few rain filled moments, they started taking in their mud-drenched appearances, smirks forming on their faces.

"In hindsight," Sam began, flinging his arms; trying to free them from the glop, "maybe we should have done this in winter."

Dean chuckled, "Snow?"

Sam tilted his head, looking to the grey sky. "Easier on the laundry."

Dean watched fondly as his little brother tried to push a stray strand of wet hair from his face, but only succeeded in smearing more mud across his forehead. "Come on," Dean smiled, slapping the younger man on the back and heading towards his car. "The last thing this family needs is to come home and find two mud monsters frolicking in their front yard."

Sam could not agree more. He made a grab for the passenger door handle.

"Hey- hey!" Dean called sharply, getting his attention. "What're'you nuts?" Dean gestured to his precious chariot and then to his brother. "You know the drill."

Sam sighed in defeat, and started the slow process of pulling the heavy, mud-ridden clothes off his soaked skin. Dean did the same and pulled out two large towels that he strategically placed on the car seats. Shivering in only his boxers, Sam held his arms out for inspection. Dean gave him a quick once over, making sure he wouldn't be spreading anymore mud than necessary into his ride, and then nodded at him. Sam practically fell into the car seat, immediately slumping down; his head resting on the towel-covered seat.

Dean, satisfied he himself was free of enough mud, threw their clothes into a trash bag and then with a grateful sigh, sank into his own seat. He shoved his keys into the ignition and immediately turned the heat on as they were both shivering. The brothers sat there, listening to the rain pound against the roof, savoring the rush of heated air that escaped the vents.

"You think they'll be okay?" Sam asked quietly. Another soft rumble of thunder vibrated against their backs.

"No." Dean answered honestly. He looked to his side, "You don't _get over_ losing a kid."

Sam met his brothers green eyes, giving a solemn nod of acceptance. "We can't save them all," he reluctantly admitted.

"No." Dean agreed. They broke eye contact and looked out the windshield, watching the storm pick up a little; adding lighting to its symphony.

Sam's voice was quiet, "I would've liked to have saved _her_."

Dean drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Me too."

Another moment of silence passed between them before Dean reached out and shifted the car into gear, leaving this case behind them… together.

**The End**

(BTW… was anyone else blown away by Hell House! I LOVED IT! And can I just say, I've never watched Gilmore Girls, so this is the first time I've actually seen Padalecki smile… like _truly_ light-up-smile (super-glue scene)… I so completely melted… I'm so weak. Oh, and one last thing… HA HA, was it just me, or did Padalecki give a little pectoral flex there when he came out of the shower? I'm sorry, but I died laughing!)


End file.
